


High Score

by incurableinsanity



Series: Winterhawk Shorts [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Competition, Hate at First Sight, Hate to Love, M/M, Winterhawk Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incurableinsanity/pseuds/incurableinsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's official. Clint Barton hates Bucky Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Score

**Author's Note:**

> Winterhawk Week Day 2: Hate at First Sight (That Develops into Love)
> 
> Also available on [tumblr](http://torii-storii.tumblr.com/post/129640927159/high-score)  
> Also available in 中文 ([x](http://cathylovejr.lofter.com/post/1cac29e2_84fd5bf))

Clint startles awake at three-thirty in the morning, breathing harshly.

He shudders in the cool air, reaching for his hearing aids and clipping them on. He inhales deeply, slowly exhaling a moment later. The fringes of his nightmare recede from his mind, but it doesn’t relax him in the slightest.

He swings his legs over the bed, grabbing a shirt and pulling it on. He also picks up one of his quivers and a bow before exiting his apartment to head down to the range two floors down.

He likes the range Tony built a lot, though he’d never tell Tony. The thing has moving targets, targets he shouldn’t hit, obstacles, and sometimes artificial winds to throw him off. It also works on a scoring system so he can keep up and gloat about his score being the highest. Natasha and Steve always battle for second (guns and shield, respectively), followed by Tony (who usually uses the repulsor gloves), Sam (who gets better each time) and then Thor (Thor has the bad habit of destroying every target – including the ones that’ll detract points).

Clint pulls up the scoreboard as he enters and then stops short.

His name isn’t first.

It’s second.

“What the fuck.” He glances up at first place.

Bucky Barnes.

Bucky Barnes beat him by thirty points.

Clint curls his hand into a fist, shoving down the thought of him just being another guy with a bow now. He breathes.

“JARVIS, hardest setting,” He says and the range whirs into life.

 

 

 

 

Clint runs into Bucky a few days later. It’s relatively late, and Clint’s still high on adrenaline from the mission earlier today. Bucky’s just stepping out of the range, in sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. He’s been at the tower, still not cleared for missions.

Clint glances at the other, “Barnes.”

“Barton,” Bucky returns, and something smug passes over his face. “Have fun.”

Bucky saunters away, and Clint furrows his brow. He darts into the range a moment later and looks at the high scores. Bucky’s winning by ten points. Clint feels the surge of annoyance. It’s official.

Clint Barton hates Bucky Barnes.

 

 

 

 

Clint surpasses Bucky’s score by thirty points on the second try. Two days later Bucky’s got him beat by seven points. Clint takes first place back with a margin of fifteen points.

And then it changes.

 

 

 

 

Clint only focuses on the targets, shooting in quick repetition. He’s furious, feels the irritation in him growing.

It started with Tony making a harmless quip about his skills, and that’s exactly what is was – harmless. He knows Tony never means what he says and he knows better than that to take it to heart. But then Loki had been haunting his dreams again, on how he couldn’t help, on how he killed everyone and they were all _deaddeaddead_ -

He made himself come down to the range, only to find out Bucky was back in first place.

So he’s been shooting targets ever since, frustrated and upset and exhausted. When he finishes, he glances at the score. Still not good enough. God, he wants to scream. He forces himself to place the bow down and clenches his fists.

World’s Greatest Marksman, his ass. He’s just another guy with a bow.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Clint hears, and he lifts his head from his curled up position on the floor. He doesn’t even remember sitting down.

It’s Bucky.

He wants to get mad at him, wants to be furious at Bucky for constantly beating him, but mostly he just feels exhausted.

He exhales, releasing the grip he has on his hair. Bucky steps into the range further, glancing around with a furrowed brow.

Clint does as well, and realizes with a small horror that the range is partially trashed. He looks down to his knuckles which are red and swollen.

He doesn’t remember doing that either.

“Barton?” Bucky crouches down in front of him and Clint forces himself to look at Bucky. Bucky looks concerned.

“Fine,” He rasps. “Exhausted.”

“This doesn’t look fine,” Bucky says and Clint resists the urge to glare.

“What do you care?”

“Well,” Bucky shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s four in the morning and you’ve trashed part of the range. It’s a minor cause for concern.”

Despite how he feels right now, Clint laughs shortly and Bucky smiles, just a bit.

“Maybe a little.”

“Why don’t we get you to bed?” Bucky holds out his flesh and blood hand and Clint takes it. “JARVIS, shut down the range please.”

The lights flicker off at the request and Bucky leads Clint out of there. He feels ready to sleep for hours now that he’s standing. Clint leans against the elevator wall on the ride up, Bucky a silent presence by his side.

Bucky pulls and pushes him along until Clint’s falling into bed.

“Hey, Barnes,” Clint murmurs into the bed.

“Yeah, Barton?”

“You aren’t so bad.” Bucky laughs,

“Night Barton.”

“Night Barnes.” Clint belatedly remembers to pull off his hearing aids, and then he’s asleep.

 

 

 

 

At noon the next day, Clint manages to wake himself up. He groans, feeling a bit sore, and his hand definitely hurts.

Clipping on his hearing aids, he realizes his hands are wrapped, and he definitely didn’t do this before he fell asleep.

So that left Bucky. And Clint’s confused. Because he and Bucky barely spoke, and before last night he had hated the other sniper.

Clint rubbed at his face as he made his way to the living room and stopped short at the sight of Bucky asleep on his couch.

Okay?

Everything is officially confusing.

Bucky shifts on the couch, eyes opening.

“Morning,” Bucky greets.

“Morning?” Clint returns, wrong-footed. Coffee. He needs coffee. “Not to – uh – sound ungrateful here, but why are you still here?”

Bucky shrugs, “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Clint takes that as is. “I’m better.”

“Good,” Bucky smiles. Silence descends on them, and Clint desperately needs caffeine now.

“Coffee?” Clint asks.

“Coffee,” Bucky nods and the two of them exit Clint’s apartment for the elevator.

“Thank you,” Clint tells him on the ride up and shows Bucky his hands, “for this.”

“No problem,” Bucky says quietly. “You don’t have to tell me, but what happened last night?”

Clint contemplates the question as they step out the elevator. Thankfully, the common floor is currently empty. While Clint puts up a new pot of coffee, he finally answers.

“It’s – you guys are all special in some way. Armor, god, supersoldiers, rage monster, wings, superspy. I’m just – I’m just a guy with a bow. If I miss, I’m not special anymore. If someone’s a better marksman than me, then I don’t need to be on the team. Seeing you constantly overtaking my score, it just got to me,” He explains. He could talk about how the nightmare just amplified it, but he won’t mention it.

Bucky’s quiet as Clint hands him a full mug and joins him at the table.

“You know, I’m jealous of your skills,” Bucky starts and Clint looks at him. “You always beat my score by a bigger margin than I do yours. It became a challenge to me, to work off the stress of being cooped up here. You guys leave the tower all the time, and I’m still stuck here.”

Clint frowned, “Barnes-”

Bucky’s mouth twists into a wry smile, “When I beat your score the first time, I couldn’t believe it. And when you kept one-upping me, I got annoyed. And it became something I had to do to still feel valid. Like I’m not some useless guy sitting in the tower, because some people aren’t sure if I’ll revert back to the Winter Soldier – if this arm will kill someone.”

Clint’s eyes shoot down to Bucky’s metal arm, still covered by long sleeves. He’s not sure he’s ever seen the arm completely uncovered.

“On the bright side,” Clint says, trying to break the tension, “It kept us busy for a few days.” Bucky laughs shortly, and Clint finds that he likes the way Bucky laughs. It brightens his face.

“I’ll give you that,” Bucky says through a laugh and Clint smiles, an idea in his head.

“You know, there’s a Co-Op setting in the range. Nat and Steve hold the record since I’ve never done it with anyone.”

Bucky looks at him, a competitive glint in his eye.

“Wanna crush those losers’ score into dust?” Clint grins,

“Absolutely.”

 

 

 

 

Two months later, Clint’s tracing patterns lightly on Buck’s metal arm. Bucky’s dozing, but stirs slightly when Clint shifts in the bed.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Bucky mumbles.

Clint smiles, “Just…glad you beat my score that one day.” Bucky hums, pulling Clint close.

“I’m glad I beat your ass too.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Clint smiles at Bucky’s laugh, and settles into his side. Things are good. There’s still times when they get nightmares or when they feel inadequate. But, they’re there for each other now, for the good and bad.

Also, he’s got the high score again. So there.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://torii-storii.tumblr.com/)


End file.
